


A Matter of Opinion

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Insecurity, M/M, Post Hogwarts, Relationship Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-10 23:53:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12310521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: Harry and Draco have been together for over a decade with a life of happiness and memories to look back upon, but when one story in the Prophet questions their relationship, Draco finds the insecurity it weaves threatening to destroy everything they've built.





	A Matter of Opinion

Draco smiles to himself as he moves around the kitchen quietly.  The early morning light is just beginning to filter through the kitchen window, casting an almost eerie glow upon the room.  Draco finds it comforting somehow.  He's always been an early riser, preferring to wake before the sun is up.  He doesn't know why but he gets a lot of satisfaction in watching the sun come up over the horizon.

With a flick of his wand the kettle begins to boil as he goes about making two cups of tea.  He does it almost on auto-pilot, so used to their morning routine he doesn't even need to think as he takes down the glass jar of his favorite loose leaf earl grey before grabbing the dingy paper box of Tetley tea bags next to it that Harry insists on drinking despite all of Draco’s attempts at more exposure to a proper cup of tea over the years.  There was a time he would've sneered at having to make such a common cup of tea, but now he finds himself smiling with fondness as he drops the tea bag into the cup before pouring in the boiling water.

When Harry stumbles into the kitchen a few minutes later Draco already has his tea on the table and his crumpets toasting.  He hands the Prophet to Harry wordlessly, dropping a quick kiss to the top of his head as he moves to take the seat opposite.  He knows better than to talk to Harry this early, at least not before Harry has basically inhaled his overly sweet cup of too strong tea.

"Oh for fucks sake," Harry grumbles, throwing the paper down and rubbing his face with his hands.  "S'too early for that rubbish."  He pushes the paper across the table at Draco as he butters his crumpet.

Draco doesn't usually read the Prophet.  He gave it up years ago when he and Harry had first started dating.  He had finally gotten so sick of the ludicrous stories published about them which had ranged from ridiculous guesses at what they did on dates (or  _after_ dates), to slanderous articles about every one of Draco's most shameful moments until he'd finally reached his breaking point and stopped reading the papers at all.  Besides, Harry likes to remind him that it is his duty as an Auror to stay on top of current news and events so he always tells Draco anything relevant he needs to know anyway.  

"What's got you so grumpy?" Draco asks with a laugh, finding the frown on Harry's face more endearing than should be allowed for someone who rather looks a bit like he might punch the next person who talks to him.  He thinks he must be deranged for finding the other man's generally horrible morning disposition and atrocious bed hair adorable.

"It's that god-awful fundraiser."

Draco raises an eyebrow as he picks up the Prophet out of morbid curiosity.  A sliver of surprise goes through him at the massive photo of Harry covering the entire front page of the paper.  The photographer managed to get a good shot from Harry’s Auror training session last week; his eyes are ablaze with determination and power.   The Harry in the photo shoots off a string of defensive spells in rapid succession before turning to mock glare at whoever is taking the photo before cracking a rare smile.  Draco thinks whichever photographer managed to get that shot must’ve wet themselves with excitement.  

"I'm not sure what's so bad about this.  I'd take you home and fuck you."  
His words make Harry crack a smile from behind his cup of tea as he wandlessly sends a tea towel flying across the room to smack Draco square in the face.

"Oi, Potter.  I thought we agreed you weren't to use wandless magic on me."  Draco pulls the towel off his face and chucks it back at Harry.

"That's not what you said last week when I had my tongue up your arse and-”

“Hush you.  Besides, I really don’t see whats so bad about this.  You knew they were going to use your photo for the fundraiser.  Robards told you so just last week.”

“Yes, well no one said it was going to cover the  _entire_ front page of the Prophet.  No one wants to see a photo of me that big first thing in the morning.”

Draco rolls his eyes but manages to refrain from stating the obvious; that he’s quite positive that at least half of the Wizarding population would probably give their first born child to see Harry first thing in the morning.  He knows even all these years later that Harry is still incredibly uncomfortable with the fascination the Wizarding World still seems to have with him, which somehow seems to magnify as the years pass instead of subsiding.

“Fuck, is it almost six thirty already?  I’m gonna be late!” Harry suddenly yells, snatching his last crumpet off the table before pressing a hurried kiss to Draco’s lips.  

Draco licks his lips in appreciation tasting the sweet and savory mix of jam and butter as Harry apparates out of the kitchen with a resounding crack.  Draco is about to set the Prophet down when a small headline catches his eyes at the very bottom of the paper.

  
           **TROUBLE IN PARADISE.  THE BOY WHO LIVED TO _LEAVE_**.

 

Without a second thought, Draco slams the paper down on the table and flips it open to the society and gossip pages towards the very back.  It’s only a small blurb but Draco frowns as he reads it.

 

> _Sources close to Harry Potter say there is trouble in paradise.  The so called love birds haven’t been seen in public together in months and our source claims that is for a very good reason.  After over ten years together the Boy Who Lived will soon be on the market.  Make sure to read tomorrows Prophet to read more!_

“Incindeo,” Draco grumbles lighting the paper on fire with an angry flick of his wand and not even caring that it will leave a burn mark on the table.  “This is why I don’t read the fucking paper.”

 

  
***~*~*~*~*~*~***

 

Draco should have known better than to pick up the damn newspaper that morning.  He knows there is no trouble in paradise.  The only reason they haven’t been seen together in months is because Harry has been so busy at work lately.  He knows, though Harry pretends it isn't true, that they are priming him to become head Auror soon, giving him more responsibility and assigning him junior Aurors to train.  Draco  _knows_ this.  And yet it bothers him more than he can ever admit, even to himself.  

It has been so long since he’s read any gossip about their relationship he’d almost forgotten how it feels.  It makes him suddenly feel twenty-six years old and insecure again, like the first time the papers had caught them kissing outside and splashed the photos across the paper with the headline  _ **THE BOY WHO LIVED SLUMS IT WITH A DEATH EATER.**_

Draco hears a knock on his door and ignores it, not in the mood to deal with any of his colleagues right now.  The knocking becomes more insistent until whoever it is on the other side gives up and just barges in.

“The door was shut for a reason.  Get  _out_!” he shouts, not even looking up from his parchment.

“My, my, maybe there really is trouble in paradise after all,” Pansy says with a tut.  If it were anyone else Draco would’ve already hexed them by now.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pansy.” 

“The fuck you don’t,  _dear_.”  She’s using that sickeningly sweet voice on purpose and Draco grips his quill tightly.

“I don’t-”

“Draco I’ve known you since we were five.  Stop lying.”

Draco looks up at the change in her tone.  It’s so rare to hear her voice sound so earnest that it makes the angry walls in his mind begin to crumble.

“It was nothing.  Just a stupid article in the Prophet.  How did you know anyway?”

“Because you canceled our lunch date.  You never cancel our lunch date.  And I read the Prophet every day.”

“How the hell did you know I was upset about a blurb in the paper from me canceling our lunch date?”

“I know everything, dear.  Besides not to insult my own intelligence but it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.” 

"Nosy fucking bint,” he mutters, making Pansy laugh.

“Just be glad I love you, dear.  Imagine the things I could do with the things I know.”

“You’re actually quite terrifying, Pansy.  Did you know that?”

She smiles at that as if it were a compliment.  “Come on, we’re leaving.”  

Draco doesn’t even bother trying to protest as Pansy drags him from his desk and down the hallway to the inter office floo determinedly.

“Where are we going exactly?” he asks as she grabs a handful of floo powder.

“You’ll see.”

Draco just laughs, linking his arm with Pansy’s and smiling.  Grateful for her friendship now more than ever.

 

 ***~*~*~*~*~*~***  

 

The next morning Draco tells himself he absolutely will not read the Prophet again to find out what ridiculous so-called truths their idiot source seems to think they have.   Except when Harry leaves for work that morning, it’s with the prophet still spread out over the kitchen table, a bit of tea spilled on the corner, and some crumbs from his toast still littered across the crinkled pages.  It seems to taunt him as he stares at.

He absolutely is not going to read it he tells himself over and over like a mantra, banishing the crumbs as he sets about cleaning up the kitchen.  He’s set to head to work when for some unknown reason he snatches the paper off the table first and shoves it under his arm before disappearing through the floo.  

The paper sits on his desk for two hours, eating away at him and making him completely unable to focus on what he’s supposed to be doing.  He knows he should just toss it in the rubbish because nothing in it truly matters, but he can’t explain the need to see what it says anyway.

He lasts another forty-five minutes before he finds himself spreading open the paper with trepidation.

 

> _Sources close to Harry Potter tell us he is finally getting bored of Draco Malfoy.  After over a decade together many assumed this once unlikely couple was the shining example of domestic happiness.  And yet a very reliable source close to Harry has let us know that there is a rift of discontent festering between them._
> 
> _“Harry is getting bored.  They’ve been together so long there’s nothing exciting left.  He isn’t angry but he is unhappy.  He’s been spending a lot of extra time with some of the new Auror recruits; they’re young and fit and its made him realize how boring his life has become.  He’s looking for more excitement than Draco Malfoy can give him. He knows its time to break away and move on to something better.”  
>  _
> 
> _That’s right, folks, you heard it here first.  The Chosen One is having a bit of a life crisis!  Looks like someone will be back on the market and looking for a new witch or wizard to enchant him soon enough._

Draco feels his blood boil and his stomach turn as he finishes the article.  It’s a complete and utter load of crap.  Harry is happy with their life, he likes their routines and the predictability of it all and is not getting bored of Draco.  

The problem is, if it isn’t true at all then Draco wonders why it hurts so much.

 

 ***~*~*~*~*~*~***  

 

 

Draco thought he was past caring what other people thought of him, or of his relationship with Harry.   Long gone were the days he felt overcome with shame and embarrassment and insignificance.  

He had worked damn hard to become a better man.  

There had been a time when what the papers wrote about him, or them, or what witches and wizards in the street said had more than stung, when it had threatened quite literally to tear them apart because Draco hadn't been able to separate what people thought of him from what he thought of himself.  

But he had grown, both as an individual and in his relationship with Harry.  What had started as something tentative and confusing had morphed into the most solid, real thing Draco has ever known.  

They had struggled in the beginning of course, both with each other and with the expectations of the post-war world, but they'd made it through everything together.  Always  _together_.  

Draco had thought now, all these years later, that he was safe from this consuming sense of inferiority; from feeling as if it is only a matter of time before Harry moves on. 

He thinks about their home, full of so many years of memories, of the routines they share and the traditions they've created and for awhile it gives him a sense of comfort.  He thinks about the life they both worked so hard to build  _together_.

Until it doesn't.

Until suddenly he can't help but wonder  _what if_.  What if Harry is sick of eating the exact same takeaway every Thursday, of going to the same bar on Saturdays with their friends, of knowing exactly what to expect at all times.  

He shakes his head.  It's crazy he thinks.  It can't be true.  

  
  
***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

 

 **  
**  
When Draco steps through the floo he is greeted by the sound of the wireless blaring from the study.   

The smell of Italian food wafts through the house and Draco's stomach grumbles in appreciation.  Harry always gets off early on Wednesdays which means Draco gets to eat Harry's lasagna.  Every week without fail.  

"How was your day?" Harry asks, startling Draco's thoughts as he appears out of nowhere and hands Draco a glass of red wine.  The other man he sits down on the couch, scooting all the way to the edge and making enough room for Draco.    
Harry lets out a happy little sigh as Draco sits beside him, stretching his legs out in Draco's lap and tipping his head back to rest on the arm of the couch.  

Draco counts down in his head ...three...two...one.... on cue Harry opens his mouth and begins to speak.

"Dunno why they bother having me come in on Wednesdays I never do anything but stand around and watch everyone else work."

Draco just hums in the back of his throat.  Harry doesn't seem to notice and continues on, chattering about his day and the way McKinnon, his assigned trainee, follows him around like a lost puppy.  

Draco had never stopped to realize how predictable their life had become.  He's afraid to think what will happen when Harry recognizes the reality too.  What if instead of taking comfort in the routine the way Draco does he decides its boring, that it is not enough.  

By the time dinner is finally ready Draco's head is a mess; at war with himself over the words he can’t stop thinking about in juxtaposition to the life they live.  

Harry is enthusiastically digging into his second helping when Draco suddenly blurts out, "Don't you ever get sick of lasagna?"

Harry stops, his food halfway to his mouth.  His forehead wrinkles up in confusion as he sets his fork back down, giving Draco a piercing look.

"I like lasagna."  He says it so matter of fact as if it really is just about the lasagna.

"Yes, but we have it every Wednesday.  Always lasagna.  Exactly the same.  Don't you ever want anything else to eat on Wednesdays?"  By the time he's finished talking Harry just looks confused...   

"Draco, what is this about?"

"It's about the blasted lasagna, Harry."

Harry schools his features into the same face he puts on when he is trying to pacify someone at work or a ministry function; the look that says I know you're being crazy but I'll humor you anyway.  For some reason this just irritates him more.  "Listen, Draco-"

"Just answer the question."  He doesn’t mean to snap at him, but he does.

Harry's confusion is replaced by the beginnings of annoyance.  "I like lasagna ok.   I thought you liked it too.  If you're getting sick of it you only had to say so."

"I'm not getting sick of the fucking lasagna."  Draco has no idea why he's shouting.  Neither, apparently, does Harry whose mouth falls open a bit as he stares at him.  

"Did something happen I should know about?"

"Never mind, just forget about it.  Forget I said anything alright?"  He makes a show of taking a huge bite of his food and forcing a fake smile on his face.    
Harry doesn't say another word and neither does Draco. 

When they climb into bed that night he wonders how on earth he managed to start a fight over lasagna.

Harry still looks a bit put out, but when Draco slides beneath the sheets to join him Harry curls into him throwing an arm and leg over his body and shoving his face into Draco's neck.

Draco doesn't sleep that night.  Instead, he lay awake staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of Harry breathing, terrified for the first time in years of losing him.  

 

**  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

 

  
At breakfast the next morning Harry makes no mention of the previous evenings incident which Draco is eternally grateful for.  He would rather not say the word lasagna out loud ever again.  

Harry kisses him before he leaves, letting his hand linger extra long at the base of Draco's spine before stepping back and apparating away in a blink. 

Draco tells himself that he won’t read anything else about them, that things are fine and always will be.  Except over the next few weeks he finds himself scanning the Prophet as soon as Harry leaves for work.  There isn’t a story about them every day, but more often than not there is  _something_ in there about one, if not both, of them.

The problem is, the more he reads the bigger the problem becomes until Draco’s brain no longer considers the possibility of Harry getting tired of him as a what if and instead more of a  _when_.

The worry begins to fester and grow until Draco feels like the words are poisoning his heart and yet he doesn’t know why he can’t stop reading them.  He just knows he needs to find a way to make things better.

 

 

 ***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***  

 

 

It’s a few weeks later while Draco is halfway through a presentation at his interdepartmental meeting about the many uses of diluted venom in healing potions, that the solution to his predicament occurs to him.  

He just needs to spice things up a bit, bring the romance and excitement back into their relationship.  That will fix everything he thinks, smiling far too much for a man currently bringing up the particulars of bubotuber puss and it's contribution to certain potions with a room of grumpy looking witches and wizards.  

It is so simple he can’t believe he didn’t think of it sooner.

 

  
***~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

 

  
The following Friday instead of their usual curry takeaway, Draco makes reservations at a fancy new place downtown.  He sends Harry an owl with the address and instructs him to dress for the occasion.

At half past 7, Draco is beginning to worry something is wrong but sure enough just as he's about to do more than worry Harry shows up.  He spends a few moments looking around the restaurant before he sees Draco and smiles in relief.  

Draco's face drops as Harry walks towards him because the other man is limping. 

"What the hell happened?"

"Nice to see you too."

Draco harumphs loudly, scooting over so Harry can squeeze into the booth beside him. "Yes, it's good to see you too.  But I repeat, what the bloody hell happened?"

In typical Harry fashion, the other man just waves his arms around a bit as if to minimize the situation.  "McKinnon was a little overzealous with his hexes and somehow missed his dueling partner.  It just took some time to clean up the mess.  I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"I'm-"

"Harry James Potter."

"I'm fine, mum," Harry laughs, but Draco can't help but notice the tension in the other man's body as he leans into him.  

"Did you at least get it checked out by the healer?"

"I was already running late and I didn't want to disappoint you by missing this date.  Why are we on a date again?"

Draco rolls his eyes.  "We can go out to dinner just because."

"But we never do."

"Stop changing the subject.  What kind of hex were you hit with?"

Harry mumbles something unintelligible, closing his eyes and dropping his head back to rest on Draco's shoulders as if too exhausted to talk. 

"Are you hungry?"

"Mhmm.  You order for me, yeah?" Harry doesn't open his eyes just grimaces a bit as he stretches out his legs, his hand seeking out Draco's under the table.   
Draco suddenly feels guilty, realizing that this is why they don't go out anymore; because most days Harry's workload is so exhausting it's easier to simply be at home, to relax, to simply be together without the stresses of being in public.   

He had remembered the days of them dating so fondly but suddenly the atmosphere feels oppressive instead of romantic as he longs to be home; longs for the sight of Harry in his favorite pair of Draco's pajama bottoms that Harry always steals and no shirt, his bare feet tucked under Draco's arse as he eats his curry always half asleep because Fridays are his longest days, with the Wireless playing softly in the background.  

This will be good for them he tells himself as Harry practically falls asleep while eating.  It just has to be.

  
  
**  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

 

The following Tuesday Draco is in the kitchen making a cup of tea when he hears the familiar crack of Harry apparting home before the cursing begins followed by a rather loud crash.

Rushing into the other room he stops dead at the sight of Harry on the floor behind the couch, the lamp is broken and Harry seems to have scraped his face on the corner of the fireplace.  Draco can only assume Harry tripped over the couch since its in a completely different place than when Harry had left that morning.

“What the fuck happened to the furniture?” 

Draco chews on his bottom lip.  He’d meant to surprise Harry by moving things around to make things feel different, to feel  _new_ , but he hadn’t stopped to consider the precision used to apparate since he always floos to work.

“I just...thought it might look nice if I moved a few things.”

“What’s wrong with where things were?”  Harry asks, rubbing the side of his face.  He doesn’t really sound angry, just unsure.

“Nothing, nothing was wrong with it.  I’ll put it back tomorrow.”  

“No, it's fine.  I mean...if you want it like this,” Harry says, but there’s a small frown on his face as he surveys the room.

“I can move it back.”

“No, it's fine.  I’m sure I’ll get used it.  Really, it's not a big deal.”

But that night as they sit together listening to the Puddlemere game on the wireless all Draco can think is that something is changing, and it might not be for the better.

 

 ***~*~*~*~*~*~*~***  

 

His other attempts to change things up start simply enough. 

The following Monday instead of stopping by the shoppe near his office and picking Harry up a meat pie like he always does, he brings home a lemon Danish. He has no idea why just knows when the smiling old woman behind the counter asks if he wants to try it he finds himself saying yes.

When he gives it to Harry the other man looks confused for only a moment before shrugging and pulling the flaky pastry out and taking a bite. 

The next day instead of Harry’s usual beans on toast with his tea Draco makes something completely different. Harry doesn’t say anything, just shovels in the food and kisses Draco again before leaving.

In fact, Harry doesn’t say anything about the small changes in their food or routines until the following week when he takes a drink of his tea and spits it out.

“What the hell is this?”

"It's tea."

"That's fucking debatable," he mutters, lifting up the offending beverage and sniffing it before plopping it down onto the table, making it splash onto the table.  

“Where's  _my_ tea."

"It's gone. I picked this up for you instead. It's an heirloom white citrus and rosehip tea."

Draco can feel Harry looking at him as if he's lost his mind.

"I don't want fancy white tea.  I want my cheap tetley tea from Tescos!"

"If you'd just try it you might li-"

"I don't want to bloody try it!  I tried that weird Japanese restaurant where the food was raw and we sat on the floor, and I went to that god awful seminar about chakras and relationships you asked me to go to last weekend, and I didn't say a damn thing when you replaced my favorite Chudley Canons mug, or rearranged the furniture, or started chucking things out of both of our wardrobes.  But this is too much!

Draco blinks a few times in disbelief.  He'd thought Harry might not love the tea but he hadn't expected a complete breakdown.  

"Harry..."

"I have to go.  I don't want to be late."

Draco opens his mouth, though what he wants to say he doesn't know, but it doesn't matter because Harry is already gone.   

 

 ***~*~*~*~*~*~*~***  

    
"Uh, Draco!" Harry shouts from the bedroom, his voice sounds a bit high pitched and Draco swallows down his nerves.  

"What is it?"

"Could you....just yeah....can you come here please."

Draco takes his sweet time getting up from his chair, meandering down the hallway as slow as humanly possible before pushing the bedroom door open.  
"Something wrong?"

"Er, what the hell is all this?" Harry asks, gesturing at the bed where there are various sex toys strewn about.  His face is an adorable mix of arousal and confusion and just enough interest that Draco feels emboldened.  

They've never used toys before.  It's not as though Draco had never given it a thought, but they'd both always seemed more than satisfied with just each other, and so he had never felt the need to explore the idea further. 

"Just something I thought we could try."  He tries to keep his voice light.

Harry stares at him for far too long before picking up a large purple dildo.  The outside is covered in tiny little bumps and the iridescent silicone shimmers in the light a bit as Harry runs his hands over it.  It makes all the blood rush straight to Draco's cock.  

"And you-  _you_ want this?"

"I thought it might be fun to spice things up a bit.  Don't you think?" He closes the distance between them, prying the dildo from Harry's hands and pushing him backward until the back of his knees collide with the bed and he tumbles down onto the bed.  

"I didn't know things needed spicing up?"  He looks aroused but still a little unsure.  

"Good things can still always be better.  Besides don't you wanna know what it feels like with me fucking you and sucking you at the same time?"

Harry growls low in his throat, grabbing on to the front of Draco's shirt and dragging him down on top of him.  It takes a few minutes before Draco gets his wits about him and pulls out of the kiss feeling about as disheveled as Harry now looks.  

"You're incorrigible."

"Pretty sure that's your all your bad influence."  Harry grins, and it makes Draco's chest ache because even all these years later, Harry's smile can still make him weak in the knees.  He starts to move off the bed, trying to get closer to Draco.

"Just don't move. I have one more surprise.  I think you're going to like this one."

"Mmm, but what if I just want you?" Harry asks with an impish grin, ignoring Draco's request and rising up towards him, grabbing him again and placing soft kisses up the side of his neck, already pressing his hardening clock up against him and trying to drag Draco's body down on top of him.  

"Just crawl back on the bed and lay flat! And close your eyes!"

Harry's laughter is deep and heavy against his skin but he obliges, winking at Draco before laying down on the middle of the bed with his eyes squeezed shut.

"If I'm a good boy do I get a reward?" He teases. 

"You'll see, won't you."  Draco's voice betrays none of his nerves as he fumbles with the small box in his hands, inwardly cursing himself for not practicing the spell before trying it out with Harry.  He grabs his wand off the end of the bed and twirls his wrist, mumbling the spell a bit as he goes and hoping it works right.  

Immediately the strips of red silk shoot out of the package and begin to twist around Harry's wrists and ankles.  

"That tickles," Harry laughs for a moment before his body stiffens in realization when the strips of silk begin to tighten and he snaps open his eyes.  

" _Draco_."

Draco feels his stomach drop immediately.  Harry's voice sounds absolutely panicked.  This is definitely not how this was meant to go.

"Draco, take these off."

"Yes well, just let me see the spell to release them."

"Draco.  Take it off right now.  Please," he begs and Draco almost wants to die at the sense of helplessness he hears in Harry's voice.  

"Fuck me.  I can't find the-"

"RIGHT NOW." He finally screams, losing his composure, and Draco has never heard that tone of voice directed at him before.

"I'm trying!" he shouts, doing his best not to panic as he turns the ridiculously small set of instructions over and over unsure what the spell is to release the magical bindings.  He'd been an absolute idiot to think this was a good idea.  

"Draco, I swear to Merlin if you don't take these things off right now."

Draco rushes to the bed, crawling across it to place himself next to the other man, taking in the fear in his eyes and the quivering in his hands.  

"Hey just look at me," he whispers, placing his hands on Harry's face and stroking his thumb over his cheek.  "Breathe, Harry."

Harry just shakes his head, unwilling to open his eyes.  

"Harry."

"Get these damn things off me of right now, Draco."  He sounds angry but Draco knows him well enough to know it's a defense, that the other man is terrified.

"I'm sorry, Harry.  Fuck I'm so sorry."

"OFF!"

Draco finally finds the right spell, casting it in a hurry and sighing in relief when the silk ties release and flutter to the floor.  He’s tempted to set them on fire.

Harry looks a bit like a child as he immediately scoots backward until his back hits the wall, pulling his legs up towards his chest and wrapping his arms around himself as if he is trying to take as little space as humanly possible.

He reaches out tentatively, "Harry."

Harry doesn't answer just shakes his head before dropping his forehead to his knees.  Draco doesn't say anything again just crawls across the bed slowly until he's sitting opposite Harry. When he doesn't protest at his presence, or yell at him, Draco inches closer and closer their knees bump and Harry is directly in front of him.  

His hands shake as he reaches out.  Harry still won't look at him but when Draco reaches his fingers out Harry finds them, squeezing them tightly as if he might never let go.

That night Harry's dreams are fitful and tense and Draco spends most of the night trying to soothe away the lines of worry on his forehead as he frowns in his sleep.  It's been years since Harry had nightmares.

Long after Harry finally falls into a restful sleep Draco stays awake, staring at the ceiling and feeling consumed with guilt and shame.  

  
**  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

 

  
The next morning when Harry comes down to breakfast he looks tense and insecure.  He looks much closer to eighteen than thirty-two.  

"Do you want to talk about it?" Draco asks, pushing Harry's mug of tea across the table as a peace offering. 

Harry just frowns, shaking his head and picking up his tea.

Draco is reminded suddenly of their first year of dating, of how many times they had fought simply because they hadn't known how to communicate what they wanted or needed because they hadn't known each other the way they do now.    
Back then there had been so many times Draco had been close to running away from it all, away from Harry, because loving Harry Potter had meant learning to love himself too and he hadn't been prepared for that.  But Harry's stubbornness and honesty had proved strong enough to see them through the hardest times.  And yet sitting here watching Harry from across the table Draco has never felt less like he knew what to do.  

They sit in silence so long Draco is sure Harry won't ever talk when he suddenly speaks.  

“Why?"

"It was a bad idea.  I'm so sorry."

"No, I mean...why did you think we needed spicing up?"

 _Why_...there are so many reasons he thinks.  Because I'm insecure.  Because I read the Prophet and let them get into my brain.  Because I don't want to lose you.  But he doesn't say any of that, too ashamed to admit it.  

"Right, I'll be heading to work now."

And for the first time in nearly a decade, Harry doesn't kiss him before he leaves.  

  
  
***~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

 

  
Over the next few weeks things become tense.  Harry spends more time at the office than he does at home.  

Draco knows it's his fault, that his attempts to make things better have only managed to make things worse, but he is still surprised when Pansy barges into his office looking angry on a Thursday morning.

"You're a fucking moron, Draco."

"Lovely to see you too, Pansy. It's been awhile."

"Bollocks, Draco!  You're an idiot."

"You said that already."

"Yes well, it bares repeating.  You do know I always know what's going on right?"

"I don't know-"

"For Merlin's sake, Draco cut the bullshit.  You do too know!  I let you have your time.  I didn't say anything when you canceled our lunch date three weeks in a row but this is too much.  Hermione says-"

"Since when do you talk to Hermione?"

Pansy rolls her eyes as if she's never heard anything more stupid.  "Draco we meet with them weekly.  You've been dating Potter for ages I'm quite certain I know how to be polite to his friends."

"But that doesn't explain-"

She holds her hand up and Draco has the common sense to shut his mouth and stop talking immediately.  He knows exactly what the repercussions of that look are going to be.  

"Stop and listen to me.  I didn't say anything when this started.  I knew it was ridiculous but I figured if you were insistent on 'spicing things up' nothing I said would change your mind.  But you're miserable.  Both of you.  And don't try to lie to me because I know it's the truth." 

“I think I fucked up.”

“You need to talk to him.  Really talk to him.”

Something about the look of sympathy Pansy gives him makes him feel worse because he knows this entire situation is his fault.

“I know, I just...”

“Draco, did you ever think about what Harry might be thinking?  About what your sudden attempts to change everything might look like to him?  You’ve been so worried about losing him that you’ve made him think he is losing  _you_.”

"Fuck.  I fucked up.”

“It’s not too late, Draco.  Just talk to him.  Tell him the truth.  He deserves it and so do you.”

“I love you, Pansy.”

She smiles, shaking her head and picking up his cloak before throwing it at him.

“Go.  Now.”

And so he does.

 

 ***~*~*~*~*~*~*~***  

 

 

Draco barrels into Harry's office, apparently interrupting a meeting because a group of Aurors all look up at him in surprise as he flings the door open with a loud bang.

"Is everything ok?" Harry asks, dropping his wand as he pushes his chair back and rises to stand; he looks worried.  

Draco figures he must look a mess, he's never barged into Harry's office before and the way Harry is looking at him now makes Draco's heartache because even after all of the misunderstandings and confusion he can see the way the other man feels about him from one simple look and he hates himself for ever doubting it.

"I love you!" He blurts out and it's not at all what he'd rehearsed he would say first but when he opens his mouth the words had just come tumbling out.  

Robards coughs awkwardly while the rest of them just twiddle their fingers looking back and forth between Harry and Draco.  

"Gentlemen, ladies.... perhaps we could finish this at a later time," he says, and it's definitely more of a statement than a question. 

When the last one of them is gone Draco doesn't hesitate,  just crosses the room and nearly slams into Harry, kissing him desperately.  His hands thread into the other man's hair and he pulls them as close together as possible, determined to convey as much feeling as possible.

When they break apart Harry looks disheveled and happy.   _Happy_ , Draco thinks, letting that seep into his brain, to give him the confidence to say what needs to be said.

"I'm sorry, Harry.  Fuck, I'm so sorry.  I love you.  I love us, everything about us.  I love our routines and predictability."

“So do I.”  Harry reaches out to stroke the side of Draco's face with his thumb.  Harry's hands are warm and strong and Draco closes his eyes as he leans into the touch, too overwhelmed to say more.  

"Why did you want to change everything?" 

Draco doesn't want to open his eyes, to say the words.  He is ashamed of them, but he knows Harry deserves the truth.

"There was an article in the Prophet and it said we were in a slump, that you were getting bored. I know it's stupid but the way it was written felt like if it wasn't true now it could be someday and before I knew it I just kept reading those blasted articles and it took me to a bad place.  I thought....I thought I was past that and I let my insecurity almost ruin us ...I let it make me think I needed to fix us when we were perfect as we were and I am so fucking sorry, Harry."

Harry doesn't speak for a few minutes and the silence feels as if it might swallow him up.

"You're a fucking idiot you know that right?" He finally says, but his voice is teasing and the circles he is rubbing on the underside of Draco's wrist with his thumb let him know there is no malice behind the words.

"Surprisingly not the first time someone has told me that today."

"Do you want to know what else you are?"

Draco is almost afraid to answer but he nods his head anyway.  

" _Mine_ ," Harry whispers, pulling Draco into a tight embrace.  "Forever, you got that?"

"Forever." 

 

 

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Words We Say](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749178) by [agentmoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmoppet/pseuds/agentmoppet)




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